


aeternum vale

by plingo_kat



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:40:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: The night before they take back the capital, Noctis and Ignis share a moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=125769#cmt125769) over at the ffxv kinkmeme: "After not seeing him for ten years, the bros find Noctis has aged very, very well. Cue awkward boners during the last camp scene and maybe sex as long as Noctis is down. In Ignis' case maybe he's attracted to Noct's voice or he really likes what he "sees" when he touches the prince's face."

The dynamic changed while Noctis was… away. Gladio and Prompto orbit around Ignis, unobtrusive but undeniably protective, whereas before Noctis was always the anchoring point. It’s strange feeling like he’s on the outside. 

Ten years in the crystal allowed him to make peace with what happened; allowed him to mature, going over the choices he made and seeing where he could have done better. He has a lot of regrets but he’s learned to bear them without breaking. It’s his body that betrays him now, not his mind. His fingers feel too big. The hair that's thicker on his wrists tickles, and the scruff on his face itches. His hair falls constantly in his eyes, lies heavy on the back of his neck. His voice is hoarse.

He doesn’t feel like he belongs.

“Come here,” Ignis says, and Noctis looks up from where he’s running a too-rough thumb over weirdly prominent knuckles. His skin has more wrinkles in it than he remembers.

“What?”

“Come here,” Ignis repeats, in exactly the same exasperated tone he used to reiterate admonishments when Noctis wasn’t listening during a tutoring session. “I want to see you.”

 _How?_ Noctis bites back the question before it escapes his lips, even without Gladio’s warning glare. Ten years alone. He’s learned to think before he acts.

He gets up from the camping chair, hearing it creak and scrape a little in the dirt. The ground is solid beneath his feet, the fire hot along his front. He wonders if Ignis feels things as acutely has he does now – maybe more, maybe blindness is more of a boost to the other senses than this new skin, this new lease on life. He steps forward until he’s by Ignis’ chair.

“Okay, I’m here.” He reaches out to touch the back of Ignis’ hand, like he’s seen Prompto and Galdio do dozens of times in the short time they’ve been reunited, casual brushes just to let Ignis know they’re there. Ignis turns his palm up and grasps Noctis’ wrist faster than he though the other man could move. He tenses instinctively, and Ignis waits for him to relax before pulling him inexorably down. Noctis has to kneel or hover awkwardly bent over Ignis’ knees.

“I touch things in order to see them,” Ignis explains. He trails his fingers up Noctis’ arm to his shoulder. The leather of his gloves is cold when they reach the skin of his neck, and Ignis pauses at Noctis’ shiver. “May I?”

Noctis clears his throat, but his voice still comes out gravelly. “Yeah.”

He’s looking at Ignis’ face, so he catches the ghost of a smile that quirks his lips. The pang in in his chest is unexpected, so he doesn’t notice when Ignis pulls off his glove until he touches his jaw. He freezes, suddenly very aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the rocky dirt beneath his knees.

Ignis touches him tentatively at first, just a feather-light brush along his stubble. He trails his fingers upward until he reaches Noctis’ ear, and then it seems like he catches his bearings because his hand splays out to cup Noctis’ cheek, thumb resting gently on the soft skin under his eye.

“Finally grew facial hair, I see.”

Ignis isn’t wearing his glasses; his eyes are closed. Noctis closes his eyes to match.

“I guess.” Ignis’ skin is warm and slightly sweaty from the glove. He smells like leather and the curry they had for dinner. “It’s kind of annoying.”

Ignis rubs his hand along his face a little, back and forth, so Noctis can feel the pressure change along stubble and hear it rasp against Ignis’ callouses. “It stops itching once it gets longer,” he says, and Noctis has to roll his eyes behind closed lids.

 _It’s not going to get any longer_.

“Good to know,” he says. Anything is else is cut off as Ignis moves, a briefly heavier pressure along his fingertips in warning before he traces the bridge of Noctis’ nose, then his eyebrows. He cards his hand once through Noctis’ bangs and tries to tuck them behind his ear, which doesn’t really work. Noctis wrinkles his nose as the falling strands tickle him.

Ignis huffs out a soft amused sound. His hand traces over the new configuration of flesh, smoothing Noctis’ expression before moving lower; he runs two fingers over Noctis’ sparse mustache, pausing over the indent above his lip and the corner of his mouth, before sliding around to cover his chin. His thumb grazes Noctis’ lower lip.

“You’ve grown up well.” There’s something weirdly heavy in his voice when he says that, and Noctis opens his eyes. A faint furrow has formed between Ignis’ eyebrows.

“What?” Notis says. The purse of his lips presses against Ignis’ thumb like a kiss. He can feel the suppressed twitch Ignis makes, can see Ignis’ lips part.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Prompto says, causing both of them to startle. Noctis twists around to stare at Prompto across the fire while Ignis jerks his hand back. Noctis glances back and lays his own hand over Ignis’ white-knuckled grip on his trousers.

“Way to ruin the moment, genius.” Gladio is sprawled low in his camping chair, feet set widely apart. “You’re embarrassing Iggy.”

“You’re embarrassing _me_ ,” Noctis says under his breath. It’s true – he can feel the flush rising in his face, concentrating on his ears. They’re probably red already.

“Sorry, sorry!” Prompto waves his hands around. “But it’s true. The new look really works for you, bro.”

“Thank you for that particularly eloquent endorsement,” Ignis mutters, softly enough that Noctis almost doesn’t hear.

“Quit before you dig yourself deeper,” Galdio advises Promto. “And Iggy – just kiss the guy already.”

“I’ll thank you to stay out of my personal business—“ Ignis starts, voice cold, but stutters to a stop when Noctis lifts the hand he has clenched around his knee and moves it back to his mouth. His skin is cool against Noctis’ lips.

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Gladio says. Noctis can hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, and the startled yelp Prompto gives as he most likely grabs him to drag to their tent.

“I,” Ignis says, and doesn’t continue the sentence. Noctis’ whole face is hot now. He feels guiltily relieved that Ignis can’t see him; he probably looks like a tomato.

“We’re going to take back the capital tomorrow,” Noctis says. He can feel his own breath against his face, damp and cool in the night air. “Iggy. This is the last time—“

 _”Noct.”_ Ignis cups Noctis’ chin again, pressing his thumb to stop him from speaking. The wetness inside of Noctis’ lower lip catches on his skin, and Noctis can see his nostrils flare. There’s a tense pause, the both of them frozen and contemplating their next move, before Ignis urges Noctis upward. "Please.”

Noctis rises, wincing at the pain in his knees – being old sucks – and ends up hovering over Ignis, bent forward over the side of his chair. Ignis has his bare hand on his shoulder while Noctis supports himself on Ignis’ knee.

“Please,” Ignis says again, curling his fingers against Noctis’ shoulder. He tilts his head up, eyes still closed, and the firelight dances over his scar. His mouth is slightly open.

Ignis’ lips are chapped, but they give under Noctis’ mouth easily, pliant and soft. He has the beginnings of stubble and it rasps against Noctis’ own facial hair. When they pull apart Noctis nudges his nose gently against Ignis’ cheek.

“I missed you,” Ignis whispers. Noctis pushes them together harder at the roughness in his voice, thick like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Me too,” Noctis says, and tries not to think about the future.

**Author's Note:**

> plingokat @ twitter


End file.
